


CRUSH

by xwynn



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, cameos of Fukurodani members, mild use of alcohol, well a poor attempt at humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:34:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6722386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwynn/pseuds/xwynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts off with a too loud party, manifests into a presentation of oranges, and somehow turns into love. </p><p>A typical story about crushes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	CRUSH

Bokuto was drunk. Well...intoxicated. About as far from being wasted as he was sober.  A nice little purgatory where the world blurred a little and his head swam with a pleasant hum.

He was supposed to be studying. Really and truly, with finals just around the corner he had every intent to do so. But when Konoha crawls through his dorm window with a case of booze with a name he doesn’t even bother pronouncing, one quickly learns through years of experience  not to pass up the chance. Thus, what had started off as a one drink turns into three, and soon his dorm is full with Akaashi giggling way too loud about something definitely not funny and Komi convinced that life is actually a Sims game run by some sadistic kid with too much time on their hands.

There’s penises sharpied all over Bokuto’s knee, Sarukui hunched over it, dashing little lines of the ‘salty surprise’ adamant about making his alcohol inspired artwork to be realistic as possible, when the door swings open.

There’s a man.

Three, when Bokuto manages to blink the blurriness away, though the height of two of them could probably make up one person. A really tall person. Maybe. Possibly. He doesn’t know.

He’s tipsy. But definitely _not_ drunk.

There’s talking. Something about studying? Sleeping? General requests to quiet the fuck down, he assumes. He supposes he should be apologizing, at least that's what years of home training says he should do, but he’s cotton mouthed to the highest extent. And the man, the taller of three (when all separated that is) looks a lil funny with that annoyed twist to his lips. He’s lanky. Long and skinny, though, muscles are there somewhere , or maybe it's the booze playing with the hall light. The guy’s hair is odd (not that Bokuto has any room to speak) dark locks going every which way in some strange form of bedhead that makes the room spin.

There’s blinking, a lot of blinking, furrowing of eyebrows in an attempt to decipher why he suddenly feels like there’s a fire in his stomach. More importantly, why the fire divides, equally placing the heat between his face and his toes when the man looks at him.

A whisper of “Bokuto no” is heard, because even when drunk and embarrassingly giggly, Akaashi knows an awful thing when he sees it.

And just like that, it was instant crush at first sight.

* * *

 

Bokuto later learns, from some freshman with an incessant desire to please and fiery hair, that the guy’s name is Kuroo.

It's been a month since he’s last seen him. Though Yukie says it's for the best because last time Bokuto developed a crush on someone he ended with a sprained ankle and enough splinters to last him a lifetime. (He swears he still finds little wood chips to this day.)

It's a fruitless statement, as it is with all things when he sets his mind to something. Or someone.

His heart’s in his feet, brain everywhere but where it should be, when he shuffles down 3 am dorm halls, poor sleep habits pinking too wide irises. The tiniest of oranges jumble in his palm and he pays careful attention to not crush them in his hand. A student, Tsuk-something, glares at him and for what it's worth Bokuto shows him the fruit with an optimistic nod of his head.

_dorm 319._

It doesn’t take long for the door to swing open, revealing a very confused looking Kuroo behind it. The tiny brown haired man from a month ago, Bokuto recognizes, peers from his position on the bed, highlighter in his mouth and textbook flipped open, eyeing Bokuto with suspicion.

“Um, can I help you?” Kuroo says, a balance of both inquiry and a reminder of the current godless time.

“Yeah, these oranges, I bought them from some girl-” Bokuto pauses, tongue heavy in his mouth as he tries to make some sense. Both to himself and Kuroo. “They’re ridiculously tiny, so I thought what the hell, might as well get several ya know? So now I have these many, _mini_ oranges, and well...for you.”

A feeling of accomplishment washes over Bokuto, glad to have completed his conquest, showing the oranges to Kuroo with a puffed chest and a wide smile.

A scoff is heard within the dorm, the tail end of a grumbled “so cheesy” reaching Bokuto’s ears, but he’s much more focused on the blooming pink on Kuroo’s cheeks or the ghost of a smile playing on his lips.

Kuroo takes the oranges out of Bokuto’s hands, fingers delicate and careful as if he was handling fragile glass, nodding a “thank you” and “goodnight” before shutting the door.

A beat a silence ensues, the carved numbers staring back at Bokuto before he hears it, breathless and giddy,

“He likes me.”

* * *

 

It’s odd, pleasantly mind boggling, how they become friends when they should have become boyfriends. Of the romantic type, that is.

The attraction is there on all  accounts, both parties incredibly interested in the other’s broad shoulders or even broader smiles. The copious amount of flirtatious teasing and excessive touching is proof enough that Bokuto’s crush isn’t just one sided.

But it’s nice, Kuroo muses, the pair sitting in Bokuto’s dorm, tossing chips into each other’s mouth, a form of competition in distraction of their neglected homework. Despite Kuroo being wholeheartedly drawn to Bokuto in almost every sense (quite literally in a prank gone wrong) he’s interested in learning the intricacies that make Bokuto, well-Bokuto.

The details of Bokuto’s eyes. The rumbles of his laughter. The causes of his rough hands. The little song he plays on the ukulele that no matter where or what, Bokuto always manages to carry with him. (“It's a statement”, he tells Kuroo one day.)

Kuroo wants to learn it all.

Over the span of a year, he does.

* * *

 

The realization hits Kuroo hard.

Harder than Iwaizumi’s good natured pats on the back that is more akin to an ox running him over than a simple kind gesture.

_That hard._

Over the months that they’ve known each other, Kuroo and Bokuto become great friends. Attached at the hip, one always closely following the other, a package deal disguised as two college students.

Best friends, with an unresolved crush that is. 

The air is warm against Kuroo’s skin, filtering through the open window of Kenma’s apartment, summer crisp in the sunlight. But the nagging feeling of something is missing tugs at Kuroo’s side and he can’t help but notice how quiet it is without the little whispers in his ear of half baked ideas.  Bokuto gone to Europe with Akaashi to help him photograph the countryside, leaving Kuroo behind  in the bowels of Tokyo heat and the insistent sense that something was off.  The absence of his best friend painfully evident in the far-gone nightly phone calls, or strums of ukulele, or the raucous laughter that warmed Kuroo to his core.

Yaku is getting his ass kicked in Mario Kart, tongue poked out as he races to catch up to Kenma when it hits him.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo whispers, spine stick straight in his sudden epiphany. “I’m in love with Bokuto.”

Yaku snorts, wholly unimpressed.

“About damn time.”

* * *

 

The semester starts in less than a month when Bokuto returns. An array of souvenirs from explored countries crammed into his pocket, he wastes no time reuniting with Kuroo, maneuvering through the halls to find dorm 319 open and waiting.

An invitation solely for him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Look who’s back! Didja miss me?” Bokuto says, sauntering into the room. It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to end up in his arms, simultaneously punching him lightly and welcoming Bokuto back with a tight hug.

“I miss my peace of mind that just left the room,” Kuroo replies, releasing Bokuto from his hold, the teasing grin wide on his face. Bokuto is surprised by how much he missed it.

“Hey now, I am as peaceful as it gets. Complete and total harmony. The pinnacle of tranquility.”

Kuroo only snorts, moving to his bed and sitting down, inviting Bokuto to do the same. “Alright Mr. Zen, tell me about Europe.”

And Bokuto happily does so.

Waving his hands erratically, eyes shining as he tells stories of beautiful wildlife and enormous museums; of new people and tastes and sounds. Kuroo quietly listening all the while, simply enthralled to see his best friend again, heart beating fast in his presence.

“And there’s this giant bird thing, it's fucking huge Kuroo, and it starts chasing us, like if I knew it had a ton of little babies with it I wouldn’t have messed it with you know? I have enough common sense to know _that._ Anyway, by the time me and Akaashi get back to the car it’s bitten me on the butt like fifty times. European birds, man, they’re freaking wild. But hey! How was your summer?”

Kuroo shrugs, much more willing to listen to Bokuto ramble than tell about his rather uneventful time on break. “Eh, I pretty much moved into Kenma’s apartment, he made me sleep on the couch for two whole months,” Kuroo cracks his back for emphasis. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually miss my dorm bed.”

Bokuto is about to crack some joke that may have to do with right hands and tissues when Kuroo opens his mouth, interrupting him, tone suddenly serious. “Look Bo, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking while you were gone.”

“Oooooh now that’s dangerous, you could have hurt yourself.” Bokuto teases.

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” but Kuroo laughs anyway, it's always hard not to when Bokuto’s around. Bokuto stays silent this time, giving Kuroo his attention. “Well uh, I-I think-I think I love you.”

The look Kuroo pins Bokuto down with, hopeful and full of light,  makes it hard to breathe.

Really hard.

So hard, in fact, that he thinks it would be best if he found air elsewhere. Anywhere really, anywhere but there.

So he flees.

“I,” stuck on Bokuto’s tongue as he runs out the room. (But not of course, without shutting the door, because his mother raised him with manners.)

 _There’s steps to this,_ Bokuto thinks, practically  jogging through the hallways, tugging his hands down his face. _I can’t handle this._

Bokuto has always been a spontaneous individual, his entire being fueled by his intuition and emotions. Capricious thoughts and feelings dictate his every move, but there are certain things in his life that he prefers to keep organized.

Like math.

Organized and rigid, numbers and equations make sense. They follow a strict way of behaving, predictable and easy to understand, Bokuto was drawn to the subject.

Much like math, love and relationships had an order to them too. At least, he’d like to think so.

“There’s fucking steps,” Bokuto mutters, earning a confused look by a passing student.

Dating, getting to know each other, and then saying the big ‘L’ at some point during that, was how it was supposed to go. But somehow Kuroo had missed that, completely bypassed the dating step, going straight for the grand dogma of feelings.

In all his haste to make sense of exactly _what the fuck was going on,_ Bokuto bumps into someone, grabbing their shoulders to assure they don’t fall.

It's a girl. The girl. The one who sold him the oranges. The one who inadvertently caused this whole thing.

Yachi, he remembers, is her name. She stares at Bokuto, nervous and slightly scared of the man who won’t stop staring at her with an unmatched intensity.

“He loves me.” Bokuto says. More of a question than anything.

“Well uh,” she says, voice shaky. What did she do to deserve this? “Do you love him back?”

A good question. A question Bokuto has been avoiding the answer to for a long time.

He likes Kuroo. He likes Kuroo a lot.  Likes the way he wore those butterfly clips with pride that Bokuto’s little sister put in his hair on family picnic day. Likes the way he breathes softly in his sleep, when he’s too tired to study anymore. Likes how he always manages to make Bokuto smile even on his worst days. Or how he always knows when to call and bring his favorite meal just when he needs it. Likes the dips and curves of his flesh, both soft and rigid, how it rumbles with laughter or glistens in the heat.

He likes everything about Kuroo.

“I think,” Yachi says, peeling Bokuto’s fingers off her shoulders, breaking him out of his thoughts, and ready to flee. “Whether you love him back or not, you should tell him.”

“Yeah? Yeah. Thanks.” As fast as Bokuto left the room, he runs back to it.

When he returns to the dorm, Kuroo is still there, hands splayed out on his legs, staring at them in confusion.

“Kuroo,” Bokuto breathes, tongue tied, frantically searching for the right words.

Kuroo’s eyes flit to Bokuto, immediately standing up, hands outstretched in front of him, in a plea. “It’s alright you don’t have to-”

Bokuto cuts him off, insistent. “Wait no, listen man. I-I yeah? I love you too.”

“Wait, what?”

“I love you-too. I love you.” Bokuto says again, this time more sure.

The punch Bokuto gets, is well deserved. It hurt. A lot. But he supposes it's what he earns after running out like that. The kiss makes up for the pain in his arm though.

Its terrible. And perfect. And them. Kuroo tastes of sunset. Bokuto tastes of sunrise. They meet somewhere in the middle to make daytime.

And maybe that’s why they call it crushes, Bokuto thinks, smiling into Kuroo’s mouth.  Like passing out or in a haze, his heart literally feels crushed.

Crushes turn into oranges, and then it turns into love.

**Author's Note:**

> This needs a lot of editing, so my sincere apologies for any mistakes or typos, I simply just didn't have the time and really wanted to share this. Anywho, 
> 
> This was hella fun to write! Based off this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ooD9m5vQu70
> 
> I've been holding onto that video for two whole years, waiting for the right ship to come along so I can write a fic off it. And well, bokuroo, as always presents me with a glorious opportunity to do so. At the very least, I hope I could make someone laugh or smile with this and thank you for reading!


End file.
